Warfare
by insert user name
Summary: "Ten years later, not much had changed; they still had friendship and bravery and all the spaces in between. Perhaps time would come to let those spaces unfurl completely." Post-Hogwarts, Harry/Hermione, Rating: K
1. Chapter 1

When Harry found Hermione, it was on a forlorn park bench that had begun to surrender itself to the surrounding forest. With her bushy, brown hair buried safe within the confines of a book, Hermione looked perfectly inconspicuous, as if – just like Harry – she was seeking solace in the invisibility the Muggle world had once provided.

As he approached, Hermione glanced up and gave him a familiar searching look, as though his face were as easy to read as a page from _Hogwarts: A History._ Harry settled himself beside her, barely blinking as she wordlessly took his hand in her own and interlocked their fingers. They had grown accustomed to this kind of easy comfort after the war, an anchor in the midst of revolution.

'I heard from Ron–' he started, but Hermione noticed his discomfort almost immediately.

'–It's okay. People change. We just didn't want the same things we wanted at seventeen. If anything, it's made me realize that there are more important things to spend your life fighting about.'

Words felt hollow in Harry's mouth so he gave her hand a quick squeeze. 'Like taking on the Ministry?' he asked, only it felt more like a battle cry.

Hermione nodded, letting out a gentle sigh. 'Yet another war, Harry.'

Harry was a soldier, a product of conflict, but now that the war was over, he didn't know how to be anything else. Hermione understood this better than anyone. She knew how it felt to have a war fought over your body; knew how it felt to be condemned for the very blood coursing through your veins; knew how it could change you, irrevocably.

'They're all for a reason,' he placated. 'Maybe this time, you can still fight for some of the things you wanted when you were seventeen.'

With that, Harry reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a long-forgotten S.P.E.W badge, placing it in Hermione's open palm. Her face broke into a warm, uninhibited smile but Harry's eyes lingered on her hand, noticing the scars, remembering who had given them to her.

'I've tried everything,' said Hermione with characteristic exasperation, as she pulled her sleeve down past her knuckles. 'They just won't go away.'

'The pain will though,' and Harry brushed his hair aside to reveal the lightning bolt on his forehead. 'In time.'


	2. Chapter 2

'Mum asks after you every time I visit. I think she's a bit worried you can't cook for yourself…'

'She would be right,' said Harry, wryly, and Ron almost choked on his Butterbeer.

'But seriously, mate. I know the idea of having another awkward conversation with Ginny is probably terrifying, but y'know, you're always welcome at the Burrow.'

Harry tried to smile but it didn't quite meet his eyes. The guilt he felt for indirectly causing the Weasleys to lose one of their own was not easily forgotten.

'I'll come for dinner if you come and join me at the Auror office? Neville keeps spilling coffee on _everything_.'

'I can't leave George with the shop! Besides, the idea of all that paperwork…' Ron shuddered. 'Bloody hell, I think I'd rather sit through Gilderoy Lockhart rediscovering his autobiography.'

Harry and Ron never talked about the war; difficult conversation had never been their strong suit. But there was always something in the silence: an unspoken lament when they lifted their glasses. A promise to ensure that their fallen friends' sacrifice was never in vain.


	3. Chapter 3

_'Scourgify_._'_

The coffee stain disappeared to reveal the latest issue of the _Daily Prophet_, emblazoned with the headline: _HOUSE-ELVES CHOOSE FREEDOM. _It had taken several years for Harry to buy a copy of the newspaper again, once the hateful bile that had previously characterised its pages had finally been replaced with the truth. After the war, people had grown tired of lies. After the war, people had demanded change.

Harry signed the last of his numerous reports on yesterday's 'Muggle-born Pride Rally', before clearing away his desk with a flourish of his wand and venturing through the Ministry's deserted corridors to Hermione's office. He let out a light chuckle when he found her, asleep on top of a stack of parchment, with several owls fluttering above her head and the S.P.E.W badge clutched in her hand. In that moment, Hermione was fourteen again and inviting him to knit hats for house-elves and Harry suddenly found himself wishing that he'd said yes. Ten years later, not much had changed; they still had friendship and bravery and all the spaces in between. Perhaps time would come to let those spaces unfurl completely.

Careful not to wake her, Harry dropped the _Prophet _onto Hermione's desk and scrawled a note just below the headline: _What's next?_


End file.
